The Bell Ringer of Notre Dame
by BittersweetBlasphemy
Summary: A twisted tale of prejudice, murderous lust, hate, drama and near maddening obbsession. Based on the disney film The Hunchback of Notre Dame with some radical changes. For my two favourite writers Zakksu and JudaixJohan.
1. The Bells of Notre Dame

The Mysterious Ghost of Notre Dame

Summary: (Based on the Disney Film Hunchback of Notre Dame). What makes a monster and what makes a man?

Characters (In order of appearance)

Clopin – Crow Hogan (The perfect mix of comical and seriousness)

Quasimodo's mother – Dr Fudo

Judge Claude Frollo – Roman Goodwin (I was torn between Haou and Goodwin and I decided on Goodwin because he murdered Yusei's father and then tried to kill Yusei.)

The Archdeacon – Chancellor Sheppard

Quasimodo – Yusei Fudo (The perfect Hero for the role. Just look how people react to his mark)

Hugo – Johan (Yubel) Anderson

Victor – Judai (Haou) Yuki

Lavern – Jayne Anderson

Phoebus – Jaden Yuki (Isn't he just made for the role?)

Esmeralda – Jesse Anderson (Who else?)

Djali – Ruby Carbucle

Guards – Chazz Princeton and Officer Trudge (Lunkheads, basically)

Preface: The Bells of Notre Dame

Deep in the heart of the bustling city of Paris, towering over the simple thatched roof tops of the peasant homes, was the grand structure of the Notre Dame cathedral, and high up the hollow, echoic architecture lay the gloomy bell tower, whose bells rang a symphony of colour down to the humble peasant folk as they mumbled and shoved and jostled through their daily lives.

And presented proudly in the middle of the brightly decorated square was a colourful puppetry stage, velvet curtains the colour of rich wine drawn tightly closed. A curious child scampered up nervously and twitched the curtain a crack to peer inside. His inquisitive gaze was met with a sparkling pair of silver orbs, "Hello, my little one," The puppet master whispered, "Would you like to hear a story?"

Unable to decide whether he should nod or scream and hide, and tantalized by the promise of a story, the little boy reluctantly whimpered a tiny yes, and the pair of eyes vanished. The child was confounded - who was this weird man?

Suddenly, the curtains tore open, and the puppet master popped up boldly, the top half of his face covered by a black raven's mask. Its glassy eyes both intimidated and scared the young boy, who yelped helplessly. Attracted by the noise, more and more children began to crowd around the box, mesmerized by the pretty way it was displayed and by the oddball who called out so passionately, "Come one, come all, for the bells are ringing," He laughed, "Oh yes, the bells are ringing indeed." Grinning fanatically, he gripped the edge of his mask and ripped it clean away from his face. The children gaped, jaws dropping in disbelief. The man had marks on his face, thick jagged lines either side of his eyes, and a giant M branded on his forehead. He was a gypsy, and the children were in awe. Most of them had never seen a gypsy before, because in the last few years they had become increasingly exclusive.

Vibrant spikes of ginger hair swept up by a green headband so it exploded erratically around his face bounced excitedly as he turned to face each child in his audience in turn, "Morning in Paris, the city awakes to the bells of Notre Dame,"

"The fishermen fishes, the barker man baked, to the bells of Notre Dame."

He gave a sweep of his hand as vibrant as the marks on his face towards Notre Dame, Just as a loud clashing bell rang crisply through the air, "To the big bell's as loud as the thunder." Than he brought his hands together in a mock prayer, his head dripped faking respect, "To the little bells soft as a psalm."

"And some say the soul of the city's the toll of the bells,

The bells of Notre Dame," The gypsy had a rich, clear set of vocals, and soon not only was he attracting children to his little display, but also their parents, who too didn't get to experience the energetic pageantries of the gypsy people very often. They gathered closer, curious as kittens too see the gypsy puppeteer's next trick.

Leaning dangerously far out of his box, Crow addressed his little flock, "Listen, their beautiful. No?" He straightened himself up, briefly cupping a cocked ear, "So many colours of sound, so many changing moods," His passion was infectious, and soon everyone fell silent to listen to the melodious trill of the bells, a music they had grown so used to they barely noticed it anymore.

Crow raised a single finger, "Because, you know, they don't ring all by themselves."

"They don't?" A little puppet figure of Crow jumped into view, rubbing its head.

Crow sighed dramatically, "No you silly boy." He indicated the cathedral through a tiny square window covered by a purple sheath of satin, "Up there, high, high up in the bell tower lives the mysterious bell ringer."

"Who is this creature?"

"Who," The tiny puppet chorused.

"What is he?"

"What?" The puppet spread his arms spread eagle and fake shrugged his shoulder.

"How did he come to be there?"

"How?"

The puppet was rewarded with a sharp rap on the head by his master, who wielded a long thin stick in his gloved hand and scolded him, "Hush," Much to the amusement of the crowd.

The puppet whined and rubbed his head while the children laughed enthusiastically, "And Crow will tell you."

Hanging out of the huge stage window he whispered to the gaping childish spectators, "This is the story of a man, and the monster." A flourish of a hand, a twitch of fingers and he vanished behind the stage's velvet curtains, leaving the children and adults be founded.

"Dark was the night when our tale was begun, on the decks near Notre Dame,"

Under the full light of the moon the small boat skittering cowardly along the waves of the river Seine tugged against its restraints as it was pulled in to dock. The passengers huddled under thin rags in a vain attempt to drive away the cold, were frightened, hungry and irritable. There were four in number, all male gypsies eagerly waiting for the boat to be secure enough for them to flee. One of the men – a young man in his late twenties, black hair wild around his face, carried a bundle of rags and cloth securely in his arms and buried in the haphazardly wrapped sheets a tiny new born began to wail softly, craving attention from his father.

The slight noise caused the other passengers in the boat to become enraged, they would be caught if the child's needy sobbing wasn't quelled, "Shut it up will you?" A stray gypsy hissed harshly, "We'll all be spotted."

The father quickly cooed into the bundle, "Hush little one." He smoothed, and miraculously the infant quietened.

"Four frightened gypsies slid silently under the docks near Notre Dame."

When all four men had safely abandoned the little rowing boat the boat puller ruthlessly outstretched his palm, requesting money the gypsies could only just afford to pay. He wasted precious time in his greed, for as they scavenged their pockets to find the coins to pay the gypsies' brief window of opportunity to escape closed in their frightened faces. The judge's thugs closed in on them.

They had them surrounded in a matter of seconds. Seconds wasted by the boat puller, who on sight of trouble had scurried away into the night, tail firmly tucked between his legs and his pocket weighed down with ill-gotten coins.

"For a trap had been laid for the gypsies and they gazed up in fear and alarm. At a figure whose clutches were iron as much as the bells,"

A shadowed figure astride a demon black horse slowly trotted into view, and as soon as his face was visible the gypsies all but turned to stone.

"Judge Roman Goodwin." The name slipped from the gypsy's lips in a rush of panic and fear, fear for his very life.

"The bells of Notre Dame,"

Disgust etched itself clearly on the judges' worn face. He hated the gypsy scum, and under his oppressive thump he wished to crush them all, and by sheer determination he would succeed.

"Judge Roman Goodwin longed to purge the world of vice and sin. And he saw corruption everywhere except within."

"Take these gypsy vermin to the palace of justice." He sneered, his face contorted into a hideous snarl. His horse snorted gruffly a solemn agreement.

A guard grabbed the father, "You there, what are you hiding?" He demanded, making a lung for the bundle snug in his father's arms. The father pushed him back, elbowing him violently in the gut.

Judge Roman Goodwin watched the scene with vile amusement, "Stolen goods no doubt," The conviction in his voice chilled the gypsy father to the bones, "Take them from him."

In a panic, the father ran. And the judge gave chase on his impeding black steed. The desperate father had no clue whether he would survive this. He didn't even know where he was running. All he knew was he had to protect his bundle, his son, from the cruel grasp of Goodwin. Even if it cost him his lift, he would've rather died than see his son harmed.

Than out of the corner of his eye, praise God a ray of miracle. The Notre Dame Cathedral was only a few feet away, if only he could get inside he and his son could be safe, the church was a safe haven away from Goodwin and his army of brutes.

Using his free hand he hammered on the heavy bolted doors, "Sanctuary," He pleaded, tears stinging his blue eyes, "Please give use sanctuary."

Too late, the judge finally caught up, relinquishing the fear he saw swirling in the father's eyes. He seized the bundle and tore it from the father's arms before kicking him down the snow covered stone steps of the cathedral. The father's spine hit the steps with a sickening crack, and a thin trail of blood trickled from beneath his shock of raven hair, lining the pure white snow with a halo of crimson. Murder had been committed on the sacred stairway of Notre Dame.

Once again, the Gypsy child wailed in his bundles, startled by the loss of his father's warmth, "A baby?" Roman raised an eyebrow. So this was what the gypsy vermin had been protecting. He moved an edge of the rags away and peeped at the child. He gasped, "A demon."

He frantically glanced around, the baby hanging lose in his hands. The child was a demon. It was to be destroyed so it couldn't taint the lives of others. He had the mark, the mark of the devil.

When he spotted the well his decision was made. He would drown the beast, and the demon child would burn. He trotted over, dangling the sobbing bundle from his fingers.

A flash of lightning, "Stop," Cried the archdeacon, his hand high in the air.

Roman turned to face his superior, "This child has a mark marring his face. He is an unholy demon and belongs in Hell."

Archdeacon Sheppard dropped to his knees beside the dead father, tenderly cradling his head in his gentle hands, "See there the innocent blood you have spilt on the steps of Notre Dame." He cried, pointing an accusing finger at Roman.

Roman was unmoved, "I am guiltless," He announced emotionlessly, "He ran, I pursued."

"Now you would add this child's blood to your guilt on the steps of Notre Dame" The archdeacon demanded, pulling the father's body up into his arms.

"My conscious is clear." Roman hollered.

Sheppard cut in, "You can lie to yourself and your minions. You can claim that you haven't a qualm. But you never can run from nor hide what you've done from the eyes." He jabbed a hand at the statues lining Notre Dame, "The very eyes of Notre Dame."

Judge Roman Goodwin halted in his tracks, his mission of murdering the gypsy baby a fragment in the back of his mind. The sainted statues of Notre Dame were alive, glaring down at him, condemnation in their eyes, promising the curse of eternal damnation into the fiery pits of Hell. And for the first time in his life of power and control, Goodwin felt a twinge of fear for his immortal soul.

Scared by a power he could not begin to apprehend, Goodwin uttered to the judge, "What must I do."

And though he asked the Archdeacon Sheppard, his eyes trained on the clouded Heavens, almost like he was begging for his lord's

guidance.

"Care for the poor boy," Came the archdeacon's response. He held the bloodied father bridal style in his arms, "Raise him as your own." He turned his back on his brother and headed back towards the church. He would tend to the father within the safe walls of Notre Dame, and when the skies cleared again he would bury the tragic man in the cemetery, so when the boy was fully grown he would be able to visit the father he would never knew. Sheppard could only hope the poor, innocent soul was in a better place now.

"What," Roman shrieked in outrage, still holding the offending child, "I am to be saddled with this deformed…" He trailed off. "So be it," He said, defeated by his faith, "Let him live with you in the church,"

Sheppard glanced behind him over his shoulder, disbelieving in his brother's request, "Here, but where?" He asked, struggling to support the father's weight.

"Anywhere," Roman erupted, "Just so he's kept locked away were no one else can see."

He calmed himself quickly as he looked the Archdeacon deep in the eyes, the twisted remains of a horrible idea drifting across his face, "And who knows, our lord works in strange ways," He smirked down at the wriggling child, "Maybe one day this demon could be of use to me." He chuckled to himself, following Sheppard into the sacred place of Notre Dame, where he should have combusted into flames, and didn't.

Roman gave the child an odd name, Yusei Fudo, Fudo after his father whose name Sheppard requested learning from the gypsies he'd travelled with before they hung from the gallows. Hacase Fudo was buried in the cemetery away from the sun's bright light under the shade of a willow tree. And one day Yusei would break free of his prison and find out what really was the fate of his father, instead of the stories Roman Goodwin fed him.

"Now here is a riddle to guess if you can," Crow shouted, bursting free from behind the curtains to the cheers of the audience loving and adoring his puppet show, believing it to be nothing more than a fairy story, and not the truth as hard and cold as the snowy steps of Notre Dame cathedral the night Hacase Fudo died.

"Who is the monster and who is the Man?" Crow's rich voice rang around the square as he sang, "Sing the bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells of Notre Dame."

And the show ended, much to the children's surprise when they twitched the curtains and found the mysterious puppet master, Crow Hogan, had vanished into thin air.


	2. Out There

Chapter Two: Out There

Gazing out from the dizzying heights at the very top of the Bell Tower, the wind ruffling his wild obsidian hair, Yusei Fudo took in the entire of a Paris in sunrise. A dazzling mesh of pastel colours dusted the sky, gradually diluting in shade as the sun steadily rose in the sky, a giant golden orb that spread light and laughter around the city and through its inhabitants.

The city burst with energy this particular morning, coloured streamers tossed around from post to post, sprinkling rainbow confetti that whipped up in an easy wind, dancing along the gentle currents.

He watched in mild interest, the colourful puppet master's display, the look of confusion on the children's darling faces when he was no longer there. One brave child hopped up onto the little stage to take another peek inside, only to be pulled back by his frantic mother. She petted his blond hair, and Yusei heard her shrieking, "Gypsy scum, how dare he try to entice my children with his sinfully wicked ways. I should tell the judge at once." And against her young child's better reasoning, she dragged him towards the Palace of Justice.

Her shameless condemnation made Yusei's hand automatically trace the mark on his cheek. It didn't bother him really; in fact he always forgot it was there. It was his 'gift' from his keeper when he turned eighteen. Something to make sure Yusei could never leave his tower without fear of persecution. The people of Paris hated gypsies, and the discrimination was encouraged by the corrupted views of Yusei's master. Over the past years, Judge Roman Goodwin had lured the ignorant and fearful into the church, against the wishes of Archdeacon Sheppard who glared disapprovingly from the shadows the torches cast, and he filled their small minds with self-righteousness and religious hypocrisy, and they ate it up, selfishly searching for something bigger then they.

Yusei lost all hope in God at a young age, as he jumped from bell to bell every morning, noon and night, he looked out past the horizon, wondering and wishing for something new. All that ever came was the routine beatings as Goodwin lashed the lies and contradictions into his head.

There is no God, he stubbornly declared to himself, no God would allow vermin like Goodwin so much power for hate. Even if there was, he knew there was no place in heaven for a gypsy. If his tracker wasn't already a one way ticket to the fiery pit, his smooth olive skin, dark hair and eyes as blue as sapphires certainly were. There was no hiding his gypsy blood from a cruelty indulged world.

Down below, between the shoving and shouting, a slight young man, face obscured by a cloak, danced through the chaos, his bare feet barely touching the ground. A tiny purple cat weaved under his feet, its bright eyes lit up in joy and excitement. He ducked the elbows and hands aimed his way, some by accident, and some purposely. One hand, the hand of a man who was old enough to know better, yanked the boy's hood down, and giggling like a youth ran off into the crowd.

Yusei couldn't help but stare, despite the constant dimness of the bell tower, his eyes remained strong. The young boy was beautiful, his rich creamy skin flawless, his childish heart shaped face accented by his large green eyes, as clear as clean cut crystals. Mounds of ocean blue hair framed his delicate features, as soft looking as newly spun silk, and as shiny as new satin, he leaned down, briefly disappearing from site, returning with the bouncing kitten in his arms. The tiny thing put its paws on the boy's shoulders, leaning its head in the crook of his slender neck.

The boy wrapped his cloak around them both, hitching back his hood and hurrying away. Yusei stared after him, cheek in his hand. Then the young boy stopped, turning to stare at the top of the bell tower, right at Yusei. He caught full blast the emerald sting of his curious gaze and, startled, he hurried backed away from the ledge, into the gloom of the bell tower. The memory of those sparkling crystal orbs remained fresh in his mind, and Yusei sank onto his bed, letting the force of them pierce and puncture him.

"He was a beauty, wasn't he," A voice said from nowhere. Yusei bolted upright in bed, glancing around the room in search of the owner. A humanoid gargoyle swung down from the rafters, his eyes a mischievous shade of amber "Don't deny it. I saw you going gooey eyed over him, and I saw your reaction when you got caught. Now you're a mess." As he hit the floor, Johan folded his arms over his broad chest.

The ravenette didn't even bother to respond, he focused on the rope swaying from the ceiling, imaging those clear emerald eyes. But, sadly, his imagination would never be enough to satisfy him. He felt the all too familiar throb of loneliness, followed by a howling animalistic hunger. He wanted to touch the young boy, stroke his skin and run his fingers through his soft blue hair, then tear into him, devour him whole.

The hunger evolved into desire, want for the soft caress of warm skin; the fragrant scent of vanilla and ginger. Yusei breathed in slow and deeply, his senses overwhelmed.

Suddenly, he shook his head, and the images vanished, "I think I'm going insane, Johan." He whispered weakly, "I don't even know the boy, and I'm imagining dongs things to him that would have me locked in the stocks for weeks by my master." He stared at his hands, as though they had a mind of their own. He dropped his head into his palms, "Even I can't believe such thoughts would cross my head about a boy I only saw for a second."

Cast in the shadows, another gargoyle – honey eyes and sympathetic, loving with the face of a young mother – waddled into view. She was uneasy on her feet, having never used them much, but she managed to make it to the dresser next to Yusei's bed before they gave out, "Isn't it obvious, sweetie?" she asked her raven haired friend.

He shook his head, unable to look the young woman that had been his motherly figure through the last eighteen years in the eye.

Jayne rested her hands of her hips, "You're a young man, Yusei. It's normal for you to feel the craving for companionship." She said gently, moving a hand to push back a rouge lock of blue hair, "Especially since the only visitor you get is He Who Shall Not Be Named."

"Speaking of, where has that poor excuse for a judge been anyway, not like him to leave his beloved adopted child alone for so long," Johan sneered, dusted away invisible specks of dirt from his black leather shirt.

"Beats me if I know, I just hope he never comes back."

Yusei raised a perfectly arched black eyebrow at them both, "What is going on outside anyway?" He questioned curiously, standing up from his bed, "The city is covered in streamers,"

"It's the Feast of Miracles," Shouted the third missing gargoyle, swinging down from the rafters, "The day where anything can happen." He fixed Yusei with a golden glare, "Maybe you should go, and see if you can pick out that lovely boy from earlier, you know, the one with the cat."

"Yeah right, as if he'd even dare, look at my face. Look at what Goodwin did to me." He pointed to the jagged mark along his cheek, "Nobody wants to know a gypsy, especially one that's been marked."

"How do you know?"

"It would take a miracle for me to even get through the doors without my master realizing I'm gone," Several bats nestling on the wooden planks above their heads open their blood red eyes and scowled. What was his problem?

"It's a day where miracles can happen." They chanted in unison, their eyes glowing their own unique colour.

Yusei fell silent for a second, chin pointing towards his chest, before saying, "What if Goodwin catches me with him," He whispered meekly, "He'd kill him."

"In the house of his lord, I don't think so. Within these walls, that young boy can call sanctuary and he'll be safe. Sheppard won't let anyone that called sanctuary to be dragged out of the cathedral."

Haou grinned wickedly, "And if he tries, we'll just set the bats on him and they can have a good feed," One brawny bat in the woodwork grinned back, liking the ideal of a chance he could gorge himself on human blood.

A scowl etched itself into Yusei's features before he could conceal it, "That wouldn't stop him."

The trio slumped, defeated. No matter how pessimistic he was, Yusei ultimately was right. Nothing stopped Goodwin when he set his mind to something, and only death would subdue him if he decided to kill the boy.

The floor creaked as the stone walls of the Cathedral breathed in and out, "Needless to say, you should still go," Jayne said, rocking back and forth on the soles of her shoes, "We should all go, slip out, and Goodwin should never know we were gone.

Suddenly, a light lit up Yusei's shape bone structure, and he smirked at his three stone friends, "What that hypocrite doesn't know won't hurt him.


	3. In the Court of Emeralds

Chapter Three: In the Court of Emeralds

Blithe Jesse Anderson was a beauty to behold for many on the dusty streets of Paris, dancing barefoot on the pads of his feet, his cherished cat a whirl of glittering ruby red and purple fur weaving in and out between his legs. Some of the children thought the dynamic between the enchanting young man and his beloved pet was endearing, and crowded round to toss a coin haphazardly into a tattered old hat laying on the ground.

One small child, maybe no more past three in age, whimpered when his coin missed its target. The other children sniggered, rather cruelly, but little Ruby – catching the flight of the coin out of her bright blood red eyes – scampered after it, and picking it up in her mouth, handed it back to the tiny boy so he could try again.

He chirped delightedly, and with his dainty hands, he petted the young kitten gently on the head and back. Ruby, in turn, took a fond shine to the feisty little thing, running all over him, and friendly pawing his knees.

Jesse couldn't help but smile watching the two of them. It reminded him of playing with Ruby's mother when he was the same age as the tiny child, but beneath the warm smile, he fretted. Where on Earth was this child's mother?

Surely, he thought, no self-respecting mother would allow a child so tender to walk the streets alone. So where was she, and had she noticed her precious gem was missing?

His feet came to a slow standstill, as he perched so his face was level with the little child's, "Tell me, little one," He asked calmly, "Where is your mother?"

Even though his mother had screamed words of hate about gypsies into his ears since he was a day old, and held out his hands in excitement as though to capture an exotic fire dancer in his chubby starfish hands, and his father had preached about the secrete world of greed and depravity that engulfed the gypsy culture, the little boy wasn't scared. He's like the puppet man, he mused, tilting his heart shaped face to the side cutely. I like him.

"I don't know." He said, his lisp breaking as though he'd only just noticed his mother wasn't there anymore. He glanced around him, seeing nobody he recognised, his dear little face broke, his eyes as wide as saucers, filled to breaking point with tears.

Deep in his chest, Jesse's fragile heart nearly broke. Dear God, he hated seeing a child cry. The boy sat down heavily on the ground, his eyes fixed on the pavement at his feet. Ruby, paws on his leg, rested her head on him, as though trying to comfort him. The sudden turn in the boy's emotions affected her too. He clasped her close, "I like your kitty," he sniffed tearfully.

Maybe it was his soft nature, maybe it was his broody side taking over, but Jesse couldn't ignore the urge to comfort the little boy. With loving hands, the young man scooped the little boy into his arms. He settled there comfortably, head on his shoulder blade, Ruby still tucked away between them, "Now let's see if we can't find your mother." He said, and he leaned down and retrieved his little hate full of coins, "And seeing as you're such a brave little thing, I'll buy you a small cake from the bakers when we pass."

The sparkling grin the little boy gave him was the most beautiful thing Jesse had ever seen in his short life.

Paris was especially beautiful that day, decked out in rainbow streamers, and bustling with activity of every sort; from fire eaters, to belly dancers; from magicians to puppeteers similar to the ginger haired one that had enthralled the children earlier on. Every so often, Jesse would fumble and struggle to keep a hold of his jumpy companion, worried he would bolt straight out of his arms in joy when something jaw dropping caught his eyes.

The baker raised his eyebrow when the young gypsy entered his little bakery, "You snatching kid's now too," He grumbled, as the little boy deviated over the different arrangements of cakes. He spotted Ruby, peeping out at him over Jesse's shoulder, and all the blood in his body rushed to his face in one great blobby crimson mess, "I've told you one to many times to keep that wretched beast outside."

Ruby hissed at him, the hairs on the back of her neck on edge. That baker was really starting to rile her. Soft finger's toyed with the violet fur on her shoulder, and Jesse cooed at her, "Calm down girl," Before turning to the baker, his eye eyebrows raised, "She's a well behaved kitten, not that I have to explain my choice of companionship to you. I just wanted to know if you happened to know this little boy, he's been separated from his mother in the confusion." He jabbed a thumb at the little boy at his feet, holding a sticky bun between his hands. He gave the baker a confused glance.

Why was he being so mean?

"Oh, yes, I know his mother; she doesn't live that far from here. In fact, she's friends with my wife. I can take him back if you don't mind leaving him here." He grimaced when the lad took a healthy bite from his bun, icing and flakes of pastry covering half his face, "I hope you're going to pay for that?"

Jesse took the baker in for the first time. Over the years, he'd been in here so many times he'd neglected to notice small details about the place. But the small hut had a cosy, homey feel about it, the rich aroma of baked pastry and icing greeting the nostrils upon entry. The baker himself was a tall, stickily built man – not fat, but you could tell he was a man who liked his food, and could afford it – probably in his late thirties, his formerly thick hairline retreating fast. He possibly had kids of his own, sat playing in the home on the upper floor from the bakery, or out from their mother enjoying the festivities, "Of course," Jesse smiled lightly, handing over two gold coins, and for once the baker didn't snatch and order him out of the shop.

"You know," the older male sighed, rubbing his temples, "Maybe the judge is wrong about the gypsies, you really aren't that bad, and attachment to your cat aside, not many people would take time out of their days to aid a lost child. I'll tell Marie what you did for her."

"Thank you,"

The young boy, sensing the impending goodbye, laced his arms around the young man's legs, smearing greasy crumbs down his black slacks, "Are you leaving?" He asked, innocent eyes sparkling.

"I have too," He explained, ruffling the boy's hair, "Your mummy will be here to pick you up soon though. So don't worry. You'll be safe here." He smiled secretively to himself, he felt that he'd made some new friends today, "and if you even see me on the street, don't be scared to come over and say hello to me and Ruby, okay?"

The little boy sniffled, finally releasing his grip, "Okay, bye bye," His big blue eyes widened, "I never asked for your name." He wailed in desperation, when Jesse was halfway through the door.

"It's Jesse," He called, and with the chime of a little bell above the door, he was gone, Ruby perched on his shoulders, leaving the little boy in the warmth of the bakery.

"He'll be fine, Ruby," He teased the little kitten, when he saw the cat nervously looking over her shoulder. She slumped down, stricken with a sudden case of melancholy, "I know girl, but it's not like we could've adopted him, he wasn't ours." She rubbed her furry cheek sweetly against his before settling down again, perkier, but still a little down.

They didn't get far before two shadows fell over them. The collective sneers of Chazz Princeton and Officer Tetsu Trudge eyed his catch of money, something he held tightly in his hands. Jesse knew they wouldn't think twice about tearing it from his fingers, and accusing him of theft.

Trudge seized him by the shoulder, attempting to twist his arm behind his back. In vain, as Ruby came back all claws, hissing and spitting in the officer's face. He violently swatted at the thing, and had his face swiped in return.

The resulting confusion gave Jesse the perfect opportunity to slip away, with a quick kick in the gut aimed in Princeton's direction, flying into the shadow as both thugs fell to the ground in bouts of agony.

What else was a boy to do, he mentally cursed, panting as he ran as far away from them as his feet would carry him, when the judge allowed the muscle bound and brainless to rake the streets, bullying and abusing anyone different from them? Ruby was bounding off the walls next to him, and seeing his lively and unhurt from the recent ordeal was comforting. Trudge was a known cat hater, and Ruby was just a baby really, a mutated freak, kind of like him in a way. He raked a trembling hand through his silky, cerulean mane of hair exploding wilding around his head, and Trudge would love nothing more than to crush them both under his feet like bugs.

Back pressed to the wall, he slowly slid onto the concrete, Ruby pouncing on his laps. If, by any rotten luck, Trudge and Princeton decided to search for him, he doubted they would check this place, it was more or less a dead zone, a small gap between closely crammed buildings. Something about the ally stank rotten, maybe it was a dying ground for sick cats, Jess didn't know, but the stench of rotten flesh and decaying bone used to make him retch.

But beggars couldn't be choosers after all, and it was better than being out in the open streets of Paris where the two biggest thugs in the police force could clamp their grubby paws on him and Ruby. So the first time he found this place, he forced himself to stay put, even though the urge to vomit caused a whirl of nausea to stir in his abdomen.

Ruby didn't much like the smell either, but she bore it alongside her master. Jesse raked long, elegant pale fingers through her lush coat. Such a strange colour, he mused, even he had double blinked when Ruby was born alongside the other six, healthy grey kitten's six months earlier. The owner of the mother cat had been a long-time friend of Jesse, a regal grey feline well fed and looked after, though she was used to hardship as well. When she was expecting, her stomach swelled like a balloon, and you could see in her eyes the joy and excitement, even though the kittens would soon have to be given away a few weeks after birth. The owner just couldn't afford to keep them.

Jesse was trembling with expectations too. He'd always wanted a kitten for a companion. Living on the streets as he did, he didn't have a companion, and along came Ruby, the youngest of the litter, and the smallest. The owner cringed as it prodded the huddled hunk of purple fur and jelly from the birth.

It was a trick of the light for sure, no cat was born with pure purple fur, and besides, all the other kitties' fur shone a wonderful silvery grey. But day's passed, and as Ruby grew, many things became apparent; not only was Ruby a shiny shade of amethyst, but she had two more ears then she should have had, positioned directly behind the first pair, and their shape was off. Her ears where twice as big as her head, and lined with plush crimson hair. Also, and this is what scared people off the most, she had a blood red ball on the tip of her tail. Nobody had seen anything like it before, and the vet assumed she'd developed a tumour. But when Jesse touched it while playing with the kittens, it almost seemed to sparkle, like a crystal ball. It mesmerised him.

Ruby took an instant liking to him, right from the moment she opened her eyes, she'd follow him around everywhere, jumping playfully onto him whenever he was near, and when t was time for the kitten's to part from their mother's, Ruby was the one Jesse chose. Call him a hopeless case, but he just couldn't see himself picking any of the others.

Eventually, Jesse thought, he reached sixteen, and a wave of wonder lust overwhelmed him. Suddenly he wanted to travel, to see parts of the world that his gypsy brethren could only fantasize about, and with no family to hold him down, he decided that it was the perfect time.

That was three months ago, and for a Romany gypsy to get this far could have, and would be viewed as a miracle. At every place he'd visited, the culture and very essence had been gripped with here about the gypsy infestation. It hindered him in some way, but Jesse raised himself on the street, and every time something – or someone – tried to knock him down, he only bounded back kicking, literally.

Not that Jesse looked much like a Romany Gypsy, and if he wanted to hide his true identity, people would never tell. Where others of his kind where tanned, Jesse's skin remained milky white and creamy, and even though his friends possessed dark features, eyes as black as coal and hair that glinted like a ravens plumbs, Jesse's hair glistened like a sunlit ocean, blessed with irises as clear and glittering as emeralds.

He was beautiful – people thought, whenever he loped gracefully by them – ethereal, ghostlike, and as fragile as glass, with a mind as sharp and hard as diamond. Tough and beautiful, sweet with just a hint of sour undertones, and it caused most of the boys he'd known in his old life to fall helplessly at his feet, declaring their undying love.

Jesse's nose twitched, that wasn't real love, it was infatuation.

The next time Jesse emerged from his hiding hole, the sun rose beyond the clouds and sat on its regal throne in the centre of the sky, and the city square had erupted into song and dance. He laughed joyfully. Nobody could ruin a day like this, he thought, running barefoot through the crowds, Ruby tagging along behind him.


End file.
